


Mr. and Mr. Nikiforov

by empatheticidiot



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Assassins & Hitmen, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Smut, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 13:12:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13904721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/empatheticidiot/pseuds/empatheticidiot
Summary: A seemingly ordinary pair first meet in the country where the Grand Prix Final is being held, become a couple shortly after, and eventually get married and live happily ever after.It would be normal if not for the fact that both are hitmen.(Rendition ofMr. & Mrs. Smith)





	Mr. and Mr. Nikiforov

"So how would you describe your relationship currently?"

Victor and Yuuri sat next to each other on the leather sofa in the therapist's office, their hands clasped together in between them. 

Yuuri looked thoughtful through his blue rectangle half-rimmed glasses. "Well, I guess I would say great?" he offered.

Victor laughed. "I can't really manage anything without Yuuri. He's my balance," he added with an easy smile, making the man next to him blush. 

The government-certified therapist Lee Seung-Gil's monotonous expression didn't change as he glanced down at the couple's file to make some notes. "So how did you two meet?"

Victor and Yuuri simply stared at each other for moment before Victor smiled brightly and Yuuri bowed his head in embarrassment. 

"Well, you see~"

* * *

 

"Dammit." 

Katsuki Yuuri grimaced at the bloodstains on his white dress shirt and glanced down at the body that remained sprawled on the wooden floor. "I told you to keep still," he sighed exasperatedly, running a hand through his hair to slick it back. With his hair out of his face, he moved to unbutton the shirt and pry it off his body only to leave him in a form-fitting tanktop that highlighted his toned physique that would make any woman-or man, even-swoon at the sight of him. 

Which was the last thing he needed in Sochi, Russia after the implementation of the prostitution ban. There was no doubt that officials would peg him as a male escort at first glance, and it would be even harder explaining to them in his broken Russian why he had ditched his formal shirt. 

Creaking the wooden door of the cottage open slightly, he looked both ways several times to be sure there was no one around the vicinity and casually walked out to blend into crowd in the nearby streets. It was nearly Christmas and yet there was a lack of decor and festivities in the air which was all the more disappointing to Yuuri. He could only focus on that aspect for a brief second before his adrenaline subsided and being hit full-force by Russia's unforgiving frosty weather. 

As he hugged himself to keep his arms and torso warm until he would arrive at his hotel room, his survival instincts sensed eyes on his back. Turning his head around slowly to look over his shoulder, he saw two Russian officers whispering to each other while pointing directly at him, both of them staring at him with scrutinizing looks. When their eyes met, the officers took a step forward towards him and called something out in the native tongue. 

One step too close and filled with suspicion.

Turning his head back in front of him, he dashed off as fast as he could to lose them. 

* * *

 

In a dark corner at a local coffee shop sat a man with silver hair that was styled in a way that had the bangs cover his left cerulean eye. Victor Nikiforov, dressed in a cream-colored sweater with black slacks, blew the steam at the top of his cup and took a delicate sip, reveling in the rich subtle tastes of the exquisite coffee beans that had been finely ground. It definitely was a great way to unwind after scouting his target endlessly for nearly a week. 

Victor stared out the window at the cold, frostbitten street where the lamps illuminated the dark of night and sighed softly as he placed his cup on the saucer to rest the side of his face in the palm of his hand. Even though he had been sent all around the world on orders of Yakov, he still ended up back in his homeland which lost its feel of home to him. Russia became just another country to him. There was no one waiting for him at home and no one to talk with. All he knew were Yuri Plisetsky and Georgi Popovich who were currently enjoying some much deserved time off before they put their plan into action tomorrow night at the Grand Prix Final celebration banquet. 

The silence in the shop was broken when the door slammed open.

Turning his attention to the door without moving his head, Victor saw an Asian man with slicked black hair and dressed in nothing but a tanktop and slacks who seemed to be both breathing and shivering at the same time. The silver-haired man raised an interested brow as he took in the sweat gleaming on the Asian's toned arms and trickling down his shapely jawline. To say Victor was attracted was an understatement. 

The police came through the door shortly after, making the Asian spin around and take several steps backwards. 

"You're coming with us,  _whore_ ," one of the officers spat in Russian as he approached the man. 

The Asian raised a hand up in front of him with an uneasy look on his face. "I don't want to make any trouble," he said in English. 

 _Ah, I see_ , Victor thought as a lightbulb flashed above his head.

He sat up straight and smiled easily at the Asian. "Darling, over here!" he called out to him, waving his hand in the air to get his attention. 

The Asian blinked twice in Victor's direction before seeing the subtle nod from the other man. Plastering a sheepish smile on his face, he made his way over to Victor. "Hey," he mumbled.

Looking him over, Victor gave a mock-gasp. "Where is your jacket? How could you go around the streets like that in this freezing weather?" he chided as he pulled off his cream sweater and put it over the other man's head, the fabric making the slicked style come undone and splay messily around his head. He saw the stranger visibly relax as the warmth surrounded him. 

The officers approached the two, looking angry. "What is the meaning of this? Why are you defending this whore?" they demanded in their heavily accent-filled English, pointing a finger at the Asian. 

Victor flashed his bright smile at the officers. "I believe we have a bit of a misunderstanding," he laughed casually as he wrapped his arms around the Asian man's waist and pulled him so that he was sitting on his own lap. "My  _husband_ went out for a walk and probably gave his jacket to someone who he thought needed it more than he did. I'm always buying him new jackets constantly because of his habit." He didn't miss the man on his lap stiffening slightly at being called  _husband_ and squeezed his arms around his waist as a warning. The easier he played along, the easier they would get out of this mess.

The Asian turned sad eyes to Victor. "I'm sorry; that grandmother looked like she was freezing in that park. I couldn't help it," he said, forcing a pout for bonus points. 

The silver-haired man simply laughed. "No worries, darling. We'll just go shopping again tomorrow," he said with a nonchalant shrug, then turned to the officers with a pointed look. "Is there anything else you needed?" he asked in an eerily low voice. 

Grumbling the officers shook their heads and motioned to leave. 

Covering the Asian's ear with a hand and pulling his head against his chest under his chin, Victor spat in Russian, "Call him  _whore_ again and I'll have your heads by the power of the Prime Minister." 

When they had scrambled out the door, the Asian exhaled slowly. When he tried to move off of Victor's lap, Victor's arms remain latched around his waist. 

The Russian simply smirked at him. "So, what's your name?" he asked in English with a trace of Russian. 

Turning his head, the Asian faltered slightly in his speech when he saw the shimmering blue eyes. Clearing his throat, he murmured, "Y-Yuuri."

Victor tilted his head slightly, some of his bangs falling away from his left eye. "Yuuri, huh?" he said, liking the way his name rolled off of his tongue. Leaning in slightly, he asked, "Care to explain what happened?"

Yuuri found himself unable to look away from the other man's beautiful eyes and leaned in closer so that their noses were barely touching. "I took a walk to the park, saw an elderly woman shivering and gave my jacket, and got chased while going back to my hotel," he answered with a knowing smile, his breath tickling Victor's lips. His own lips twitched slightly when he saw a glint in those blue eyes. 

Lifting one of his hands, Victor lifted Yuuri's chin with his fingers and closed the gap in between their lips. 

In the coffee shop with music playing overhead, no one noticed the two who were sitting in the dark corner and shoving their tongues down each other's throat. 

Victor pulled back a millimeter and nearly smirked at Yuuri's flushed face and bruised lips. "Where is your hotel?"

Yuuri cocked a brow. "I honestly don't know."

Chuckling, Victor leaned forward so that his lips were next to Yuuri's ear. "Luckily, I know where mine is," he whispered. 

Trailing a hand up Victor's torso, Yuuri whispered back, "So show me."

As soon as the Star Hotel's elevator doors shut in front of them, Victor shoved Yuuri against the back of the elevator and hungrily captured his lips with his own. His hands crawled under Yuuri's layers and ran over his bare, smooth skin, relishing the feel of subtle yet defined muscle under his palms. 

Yuuri moaned in Victor's mouth as a finger flicked a nipple. 

Victor broke the kiss first and rested his forehead against Yuuri's. "Yuuri, if you moan like that again, I'm going to have to fuck you in this elevator," he warned breathlessly, resting his hands on the other's bare hips and giving it a warning squeeze. 

Yuuri laughed breathlessly and shook his head. "Are you always this impatient to fuck people you meet at coffee shops?" he asked while trying to catch his breath. 

Flashing a grin, Victor replied, "Only those who run from the police and are accused of being a prostitute."

When the elevator doors opened and they reached Victor's room, Yuuri reached up and gripped Victor's hair as he caught Victor's lower lip and bit down hard on it. 

Victor didn't remember how he managed to get the door open. He just remembered slamming the door shut, slamming Yuuri against the wall, Yuuri pushing  _him_ down onto the bed all the while kissing each other with a passion that seemed to set their insides on fire. He remembered the feel of Yuuri's tongue on his cock as he sucked him off, remembered the feeling of Yuuri's entrance seeming to suck in his fingers as Victor nibbled on his ear, remembered silencing Yuuri's screaming moan with his mouth as he thrust the whole length of his cock into Yuuri. He remembered Yuuri flipping them so that he was on top and riding him like his life depended on it while Victor slid his hand up and down mercilessly on Yuuri's very erect cock. 

He definitely remembered the scream that left Yuuri's mouth as creamy liquid splattered onto his torso just as Victor's cum filled his ass to the brim. 

 

 


End file.
